Chances Are
by aspdstra
Summary: Sometimes the best things in life are the things that you don't know are the best things until they've bested you. RoryLogan, Post-TPO -- Chapter 2 is up! R&R!
1. Limousine Lush

Chances Are

By trory-goddess

"Sometimes the best things in life are the things that you don't know are the best things until they've bested you."

A/N: Well, here's my little contribution to the R/L fanfiction world. It picks up right from the point where AS-P left us wondering what happened in "The Party's Over" between the re-entrance into the Gilmore pool house and Rory emerging from the limo. I hope you guys enjoy it, and please leave feedback!

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CHAPTER I: Limousine Lush

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"You're so handsome."

Logan glanced down at the slurring girl petting his face with his arm slung loosely around her waist and grinned, stifling the beginnings of a chuckle.

"You're so drunk."

Rory smiled lazily.

"Heh…probably. But it's pretty fun. Besides…this way I'm doing something reckless with my life -- 'something stupid, something bad for me…something different'…"

He beamed at her quoting his exact words to her from days prior.

"Yep, and you're gonna have the reckless hangover to go with it tomorrow, I promise you."

"Oh I dunno…Finn's Passion of the Christ seems to be a pretty good cure-all for the most common ails that afflict the human soul," she blathered absent-mindedly.

"How are you even making sense right now? The alcohol's practically seeping out your ears as we speak."

"Hey…I have you to blame for that, mister…and no one ever said I was a stupid drunk…perhaps a little tipsy and misguided, but never unintelligent. It's one of my strong suits."

"Oh is it?"

"Mm."

"Hm."

Rory took a minute to reflect on the night's events; well, she'd broken up with her "boyfriend", Dean, in front of all her mating ritual guests, for one -- she'd seen a pretty pathetic yet all-be-it entertaining and sacrilegious re-enactment of a rather depressing and gory Biblical film -- and then there was the whole whooping and hollering drunkard fest going on in the back of what appeared to be Logan's limo to cap off the evening as a twisted success. Life had funny ways of letting one know you can find joy in the little things.

"They're singing again," she observed randomly, lifting her head from its resting place on his shoulder.

"Yeah…I think they might've even gotten more off-key," he returned, his face taking on a pained expression.

"How did _that_ happen?"

"No idea…we should probably join in, or else we'll end up looking like a couple of wallflower Prozac junkies, complete with miles of emotional baggage and embittered pseudo-romantic anecdotes."

"Oh and we can't have that…whatever would we tell our parents?"

"Eh, probably the same thing I tell them now -- which would be nothing, or at least a distorted version of the truth."

"Just like what you told your dad about crashing his yacht, I'm sure…"

Logan smiled at her, his curiosity piqued.

"How'd you find out about that?"

"I have my sources…reliable, for all intents and purposes. And besides -- I'm tracking you, remember?"

The two exchanged a pleasant grin and proceeded to pick up from the second verse of "Fernando".

Pulling up to Rory's residence in Stars Hollow, Logan reached over and opened the limo door for her, various rambunctious sounds and anonymous body parts leaking out from it and the now-permanently-ajar sunroof.

"You okay there, Ace," he shouted uneasily over the racket at the sight of her stumbling out of the vehicle.

"Oh, I'm okay…" she drawled, though her wobbly limbs, lopsided dress and gloriously-undone hair-do spoke volumes to the contrary.

Seeing that she was about to sprain her ankle in a rather messy way, Logan moved quickly to catch her around the waist and assist her to the door.

She'd straightened out some once they reached the porch and was finally able to stand on her own, facing him.

"Thanks Logan."

"Hey, it's your first day with the new set of legs, I had to throw you a bone…no big deal," he jested with his infectious smirk.

Rory smiled and tried to hide her facial blush in the dim lighting.

"No I meant…you know…for everything. The sub-party, The Bucking-Up Ensemble, the champagne…the show tunes…"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, tilting his head and still grinning.

"Well we _have_ been dating for a year and a half…it's the least I could do…and it's not like I didn't have a few selfish motives stashed away in there somewhere."

"Motives, you say?"

"Oh sure -- I'm almost positive Colin, Finn and I could turn out a sweet profit if your rendition of 'Rain On My Parade' and other famous Barbara hits ever went public."

She snorted gracelessly.

"HA!…like I'd ever be drunk enough to agree to something like that."

"You never know…I have my ways, secret ways. Damn near untraceable."

"Well color me impressed," she continued the glib banter, folding her arms across her stomach.

Then came the conversation lull, in which she had too much time to contemplate how close she was standing to Logan's face and how weak his sable-brown stare made her feel. His constant smirking didn't help either. Oh, and there was the fact that he'd just leaned in and kissed her on the cheek then grazed his thumb over it…she was already a smoldering inferno of emotions, why not add some kerosene?

"Take care of yourself, Ace."

Her ankles buckled under the weight of her light-headedness, but she tried to disguise at a shift in her position.

"Oh I will," she assured him, giving a tight smile.

For crying out loud…did he really have to just stand there, smirking and staring her into hypnosis, I mean, was it really necessary?

Before she even knew what she was doing, she'd grabbed the lapels of his jacket and was kissing him thoroughly on the mouth. It took him a moment to reciprocate, given the sudden urgency of her actions, but as he'd been told before many times in his life, he was a fast learner, and he let her cradle his face in her hands while set his loosely on the sides of her arms.

Once her tongue had made a languid excavation into the far recesses of his mouth, and his likewise, she put a stop to the festivities and pulled back, staring at him wide-eyed and out of breath.

"Whoa…"

"Something like that, yeah," he agreed, the grin resurfacing.

"I'm sorry -- I'm so, so sorry, I'm such an idiot, Rory you're such an idiot, why would I do something like that, I barely know you," she chided herself, trying to return to what society would call respecting one's personal space.

Logan chuckled, re-stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"That may be true, but there's nothing to be sorry about."

"There isn't?"

"Of course not…what just happened here is a very important and worthwhile step in the right direction."

"Oh I can't wait to hear this one…"

"You have your first official Dumb Shit-faced Moment…ready for documentation and storage in the Lush Archives. You should be proud."

"_The Lush Archives_? Really…" she said, her voice tinted with doubt.

"I know I am, since I got front row seat, tangible and literal in-your-face action."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he caught her on instinct.

"Don't worry Ace…never leaves this porch, drunk Scout's honor," he swore, briefly raising his index and middle fingers in salute.

Rory managed a smile, her embarrassment being assuaged momentarily.

"Then how would it make it into the Archives? I thought it was a momentous point in human history."

If she'd ever conceived that his smirk could get more tempting, now would be that time.

"You don't think we use peoples' real names, do you?"

"Oh don't tell me it's strictly for the privileged Life and Death Brigade…then I'd have to join."

"Baby steps, Gilmore," he warned informally over his shoulder then headed back to the limo, looking back at her every now and again to toss her some complimentary smirks before disappearing into the hilarity.

She made a mental note to call her grandparents the next day and thank them for throwing the party.

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Okay then folks.  Hope you liked the first installment.  Unlike my other fics, it should be updated fairly soon, so stay alert!  R&R! 


	2. It Pays To Discover

**Chances Are**

By trory-goddess

_"Sometimes the best things in life are the things that you don't know are the best things until they've bested you."_

**A/N:** Alrighty folks, here's the second chapter I promised. And believe me – for me, this is a fast update.

So I was reading over the fic challenges at Illusive (R/L Fanfiction Archive), and I came across the "Baby-Sitting New Year" one, and I really liked a few of the ideas, so I plan to incorporate part of the challenge into part of this fic (to the author of the challenge, let me know if you want me to specify which parts I'm using). Just so you all would know I was inspired.

Anywho, enjoy, and please leave feedback. It's like ambrosia.

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**CHAPTER II: It Pays To Discover**

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Rory was zoning out again. Like, for the fiftieth time that morning. She couldn't seem to stop running the previous night's events through her head. Normally when people get as drunk as she had gotten, they acted a fool, blacked out, and woke up the next morning not even remembering what sex they were – but she couldn't stop remembering. All of it…the singing, the alcohol…the fact that she'd kissed someone that she'd only known for a week, two at best. Since when was she like that? Never in her whole life had she been known to show such reckless abandon, such thoughtlessness…well…except for that whole sleeping with her married ex-boyfriend behind his wife's back thing. Yeah.

And it seems that she had tuned out the entire conversation Paris was currently in the process of trying to have with her.

"You know, if I actually cared if you were listening, I'd be deeply offended that you clearly aren't."

Straightening her posture, Rory blinked out of her daze and tried to focus her attentions. "Hm?"

"Look, Rory, I realize that the subject matter of an article on the male preoccupation with Internet pornography isn't the most thrilling of conversation pieces, but you could at least pretend you're not nearly as hung-over as you're acting."

"Do I really look that bad?"

"Though how you managed to get drunk on a Wednesday night is beyond me…I thought you said your grandparents were throwing a Yale alum party of some kind at their house."

"They were…well, they did, but…"

"And by some divine act of providence, my invitation managed to get eaten by the yippy little dog chasing the postman down the street…"

"It wasn't like that. It wasn't even really a party, it was this total disaster. I mean…the nerve of my grandparents, pretending to be interested in my social advancement while secretly shrouding their diabolical ulterior motives of finding me a Stepford soul mate. And the worse part is they tried to keep up this pretense of it being totally normal for some odd number of guys I'd never met coming over to have open season on their granddaughter. I half expected them to start showing everyone my teeth and my hooves and saying what good breeding stock I was."

"Your hooves?"

"It was terrible. Then there was the Tiffany's store I had to wear the entire night…I'm surprised I didn't pass out from the weight of all the karats."

"So being stuck with a house full of Stepfords made you think you had hooves and a Tiffany's store on your head – no wonder there was alcohol involved."

Rory instantly began to fidget. "Well…actually, that was Logan."

"The Stepford?"

"No, the alcohol."

"Logan was the alcohol…"

"No…Logan brought the alcohol. Well, there was alcohol already there, but he brought it to our sub-party."

"Sub-party?"

"Yeah, Lesson 1 in the Rules of Partying book…or something…"

"You're making me wish _I_ had a drink right now."

"Oh it was nothing, just this little gathering of him, Colin and Finn trying to relieve me of my boredom…it was really very sweet," she recounted fondly, a dazed smile crossing her face.

Of course, it left as soon as it appeared once she began pondering the events following the "sub-party", newly embittered.

"What," Paris inquired at her obvious change in mood.

"Dean…"

"Yes, your abnormally-tall boyfriend, what about him?"

Regretfully, Rory shook her head. "He's not my boyfriend anymore."

"Well what happened?"

At that moment, Doyle came scuttling over, looking quite perturbed about some anonymous thing…but then again, it was Doyle.

"Don't your parents _pay_ for you to go here, and by going here aren't you saying that your academic achievements were worth enough to get you here in the first place, and by achieving anything in the field of academia, don't you actually have to be doing **WORK**? This isn't some artsy Existentialist poetry corner where everyone's feeling the same vibe and riding the waves of life, waiting for their rockets to come – I get paid to run a paper, and I can't run a paper without writers, and I most certainly can't run a paper with writers who refuse to write, so – why am I talking to you two?"

Paris eyed him in a very blasé manner then rolled her eyes. "I'll catch up with later, Rory – the land of the sane and non-schizophrenic is calling my name."

Doyle pointed after her as she returned to her desk. "Was she indirectly calling me insane and schizophrenic, I'm almost positive she was…"

"I think she was – but you're right Doyle, this isn't social hour. I'll get right to work on…something," Rory conceded, placing her fingers on her keyboard.

"Right…well, anyway, at least you're making the effort, which is more than I can say for that schmuck Huntzberger, God is he **ever** on time for anything in his life besides a booty call?"

Rory smiled good-naturedly. "I didn't realize you knew what a booty call was – very hip of you."

"I'll say…I wonder if any of the Yale faculty and staff have had first hand experience with your 'hip'ness, Doyle – I'm sure you'd be smashing good fun at Scrabble parties."

The two of them turned to the sound of Logan's voice, and Doyle's countenance got instantly more submissive.

"Oh don't be daft, Logan, I'm sure you're a far superior Scrabble champion than I," he cheesed thickly.

"Well, then you'd better start practicing – never know when we might meet in Sudden Death, you should always be prepared."

Doyle, of course, got the hint that Logan was mocking him but gritted and bore it, smiling tightly and returning to his desk.

Amused, Rory hid her chuckling behind a wobbly grin. "Scrabble?"

"Seemed like a hobby a troll like him would have."

"He said condescendingly."

"Eh, it's all in good fun…so what're you doing for lunch?"

"God, is it lunch time already? You really are a schmuck."

"So that's the expletive I missed upon my entry…"

"You can't even technically be called late anymore – you're just partially absent."

Logan smirked, making his way behind her desk. "What can I say, a man needs his beauty rest."

"We open at 9:00, Huntzberger."

"Hey, the line for Doyle impersonators is out in the hallway, Ace – you'd better head out, you've got a bit of a wait ahead of you and some pret-ty stiff competition."

"Strange, all forms of appetite have left my body…how curious…"

"Laughs all around, you never answered my question."

"Oh sorry, your cynicism must've ate my answer – it is lunch time, after all, you can't be starving personality traits, there are laws."

"Wow, who knew the drunkard could be so witty, fresh off a night of carousing and breaking hearts…"

They exchanged another one of their grinning stares, and eventually Rory thought it best to speak so no pregnant pauses gave birth in their conversation.

"_Any_way…as of this moment, I am without lunch plans, so suggestions of any kind would be most welcome."

"Well, I was going to go to some eatery place with Colin and Finn, but my schedule's pretty loose."

"Hm, that's something the two of you have in common, then," she retorted in a light-hearted manner, facing her computer and pretending to busy herself with something.

Almost instantaneously, she felt his mouth tracing the outer lining of her ear and just above where her shoulder met her neck.

"Meet me by the coffee stand outside the cafeteria in five minutes…and come alone."

She all but breathed a sigh of relief when he put some distance back between them, and she was able to somewhat get her bearings. "Does everything with you have to be a secret?"

By the time she turned to face him, there was no one there.

Rory sat on one of the cement ledges lining the elaborate vegetation, waiting but not entirely sure what she was waiting for. Nothing with Logan was certain or predictable, and it put a life-size cramp in her normally safe style. But truth be told, she didn't mind her routine being jostled a bit – and she would've given her right arm at that point just to be able to not think about Dean or anything that happened last night, so she was ready for a distraction.

"There you are," Logan said suddenly, again coming out of nowhere and taking her by the arm to usher her along.

"Was Stealth one of the classes you actually passed when you attended here before?"

He grinned, unconsciously let his hand linger at the small of her back. "I reserve the right not to answer that question, since you are a member of the press and can't be trusted."

"You know, in Biblical times, God struck down the hypocrites with lightning…who's to say he wouldn't revive an old classic in the 21st century?"

"In case you haven't noticed already, all I do there is sleep, so I'd only be a hypocrite if I actually participated," he returned distractedly, looking for a quiet anonymous place to settle.

Rory was about to fire back a response when Logan touched a silencing finger to her mouth and pulled her into what looked like an under-used A/V room, closing the door behind them and scanning the premises for any obvious sound leaks and places the average human could hide.

Presently, he faced her, the charm-doused grin reappearing on instinct. "Alright Ace, time for Proposition #2."

"I didn't realize it was supposed to be a series, I would've brought my notes."

"Do us a favor and let the dust yetis have your sarcasm – this is very serious business we're about to discuss, so let's see that game face."

Rory tried to sober up and appear stern, but she ended up looking like her normal cute innocent self, and his smile showed flecks of admiration.

"Okay okay, don't strain anything, loosen up, relax," he encouraged, squeezing her shoulders and lower neck lightly while she took the liberty to shake out her arms and take a deep breath.

"So…the club that I'm not in is holding their Annual Stratton Mountain Ski Retreat in Vermont this weekend – which really means tomorrow, through Monday – we pretty much rent out the whole place and ski and snowboard as much as we want, everything's pre-paid, there's plenty of stuff to do _and drink_, and **you** are coming with me as my special member of the distinguished press."

She stared at his confident grin in disbelief. "Who's funding this?"

"In this case, it pays to discover."

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Actually, _we're_ leaving tomorrow, and really early too, but yeah…that's why I figured I'd tell you before the day was gone so you'd have time to get your act together."

"Oh there will be no act-getting, I can't go – what about school, I can't just flake out on three days of classes."

"You'll be learning plenty, Ace, you're on assignment."

"Okay, the using of present tense verbs is not appropriate in this case because I have not agreed nor will I agree to just drop my life and go to some ice cap for the entire weekend."

He drew closer, hovering in her personal space and staring through her like only he could.

"Why, because there's too many risks involved?"

"W-well…yeah. That and I'm not sure I even want to go," she tried to convince herself ineffectively.

"Believe me, Rory…you want to go…but I'll tell you what – I'll let you think about it for a little bit. We'll swing by your dorm at 5:30 tomorrow morning and I'll knock on your door. If you're up and ready, then we'll both know what you're made of – if you're not…well then, I guess I'll see you Tuesday morning."

And with a wink and a smirk, he excused himself and left Rory to her thoughts and, unbeknownst to him, controlling her blood pressure.

Once he'd rounded the corner and started back to civilization, he was assaulted by two relatively tall brunette males dressed in prep wear and fashioning rather displeased frowns on their faces.

"Gentlemen, so nice to see you," Logan greeted them, his smile widening.

Colin ignored the courtesy and pressed on. "Oh stuff it, Huntzberger, we know you're trying to expose us."

"We always knew your obsession with women would be our downfall one way or another…this way I'm actually sober enough to witness it," Finn added.

"And I'm actually sober enough to witness him witnessing it."

Logan raised his hands in surrendered self-defense. "Fellas, fellas…please. Cease and desist, there is nothing to worry about here, I've got it all under control. She's perfectly harmless, we're just gonna show her the ropes."

Realization dawned on Finn's face. "Oh God, you're going to try and turn her, aren't you?"

Logan's expression soured. "And suddenly we're a coven of socialite vampires…no I'm not going to 'turn her'. She needs a good time, that's all we're gonna give her."

"And conveniently leave out the fact that it's always been a strictly Life and Death Brigade event," Colin stated with heightened skepticism.

"She knows," Logan informed them.

Finn slumped. "Great. Now the whole world's going to hear about how I ran around the Dean's office in drag with his wife's hose on my head, I can just see the incriminating headlines scrolling across the screen on CNN, **God** why didn't I wear a mask…"

"Oh come on, it's not like she hasn't seen what goes on before anyway."

"Hey, isn't she the reporter who's doing a story on us," Finn recalled with ingenious deduction.

Logan's face flattened. "Well what do you know, he didn't sell his last brain cells on E-bay like we all thought…seriously, it's just an info piece, there were no names used. Besides, you're the one who wanted her to spank you then did an impression of Jesus to cheer her up after her boyfriend dumped her in front of everyone."

"Whipped Boy has a point," Colin nodded in agreement.

"Whipped Boy?"

Finn stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Oh come off it, Huntzberger, we now why she's really coming…wouldn't be the first time you mixed business with pleasure."

Squinting briefly, Logan chose his words carefully. "I'm not even going to acknowledge your talking hangover with a response."

"Just as well, I probably won't remember this conversation later anyway," Finn relented, focusing on the nearest female body.

Colin reengaged himself in the conversation. "Fine, she comes. What about our code of secrecy? We won't be able to discuss any club goings-on with her flitting about with her paparazzi wiles interrogating the life out of us all."

Logan was ever ready with his rebuttal. "One, there will be no flitting, two, she won't be asking any questions of anyone, there's plenty there to keep her busy, three, we never discuss any 'club goings-on' on the ski trip anyway, unless you count last year's game of 'Pin The Tail On The Debutante' some sort of secret society protocol, so we really have nothing to worry about."

Finn's head jerked back in their general direction. "So basically what you're saying is you're bringing her along and there's nothing we can do about it, am I right?"

"Hang the fools who ever said you were useless before 2:00 p.m.," Logan encouraged, patting Finn on the back as they headed off to do something guyish.

Colin paused to think briefly before catching up with the duo. "Could they really legally hang me in this state, I thought lynching was a thing of the past…"

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So...that's that. For now, anyway. Be your usual delightful selves and review for me, please. I really love the input. Speaking of...

THANKS TO THE REVIEWERS: Ms. Vaughn, scarlet (muah), Psychotic Scribbler (muah), menial marvin, bulletproof, coffeeaddict14, rjs0123, bklyangel, smile1, megliz716, Logan13, innocent, mystripedskirt, angel55884, Omarion, beautymarked, Genevah, and MsLessa (muah)

You all rock so many casbahs. :D


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